Murder on Her Mind?
by Fallenbelle2
Summary: If Murdoch had been ignorant of his dance partner's attentions and intentions, Dr. Ogden had not, her smile ill-concealing her anger and jealousy.


Title: Murder on Her Mind?

Author: Fallenbelle

Rating: T just to be safe.

Summary: If Murdoch had been ignorant of his dance partner's attentions and intentions, Dr. Ogden had not, her smile ill-concealing her anger and jealousy.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I promise not to break them…

Notes: A story just for fun, this is what happens when a discussion on the forum postulates that since most of the ladies in Murdoch's life are either missing or dead, is it possible that Julia was behind these deaths? This fic was supposed to be crack!fic, but this happened instead. To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about it, so constructive criticism is welcome. Unbeta'd, all mistakes mine alone.

* * *

The gala was in full swing by this point, and Margaret Brackenreid was gaily engaged in conversation with several other women, mostly critiquing the dresses of the other women who's only crime was to be younger than they were as well as not belong to their group. Noting that the ladies were happily occupied with ever increasing cattiness and recognizing an opportunity when he saw one, Thomas Brackenreid took advantage of the situation and stealthily stalked over to the bar, obtained a scotch, and then hid in a corner mostly obscured by a large plant to enjoy said beverage in quiet, where he could also engage in a bit of unobserved people watching; a guilty pleasure of his own.

It wasn't long before he spied The Murdochs; both engaged in conversation with another couple, The Middletons. He was an older, gruff businessman, while she was a very attractive young matron bored with her husband, and undoubtedly looking for a lover to occupy her time and satisfy her needs-something her increasingly decrepit husband was incapable of doing Thomas quite cattily surmised to himself. Unsurprisingly, Murdoch was seemingly oblivious to the woman's overt charms, even as she was increasingly shameless in her attentions to his detective.

Stroking his bicep, and leaning in close to him to whisper seductively into his ear, the woman had now succeeded in coaxing Murdoch onto the dance floor, who was now becoming aware of his dance partner's increasingly inappropriate attentions and intentions and looked over at his wife in worry.

If Murdoch had been ignorant of his dance partner's ulterior motives, Dr. Ogden had not, her smile ill-concealing her anger and jealousy. Having himself recognized a similar expression on his own wife's visage for years when she was upset with him while they were both in public and could not express her true feelings, Thomas knew his detective was in a bit of hot water. To his credit, the formerly oblivious man was growing increasingly concerned at the developing situation, and Thomas couldn't help but laugh at Murdoch's misfortune.

"Better you than me, me old mucker," Thomas chortled to himself.

While the younger man was clearly uncomfortable with his current circumstance, Dr. Ogden's anger was just as amusing as her husband's discomfiture. Laughing again, he jokingly wondered when Mrs. Middleton was going to end up on a morgue slab, as he wouldn't be surprised if the good doctor would kill the woman for her attempts at seduction of the detective.

With a shake of his head, Thomas finished his scotch, and observing that his wife was still otherwise engaged, decided to indulge in another drink, seizing his chance where he could.

* * *

A week later, a body had been found and possible murder had been reported in posh Rosedale, and as was usually the case, Murdoch and Crabtree responded to the call. However, quite unusually in this case, Murdoch soon reported back, asking to be excused from the case, as he knew the victim.

The victim, as it turned out, was none other than Mrs. Middleton, Murdoch's once hopeful lover. It would no doubt be awkward for the man who was shifting from foot to foot in front of his desk like a schoolboy getting scolded by the headmaster, but he'd be damned if he was going to hand a case over to Pinkertons.

"Denied, Murdoch. A brief dalliance on the dance floor with the victim in front of your wife is not a good enough excuse for not taking a case," Thomas quipped to the man.

"Sir! I…I," Murdoch sputtered.

"Now that you're a married man, you're going to have to learn to conduct your flirtations in private-or at least conduct them away from your wife's eyes. I can't imagine how that went down with the good Doctor," Thomas retorted back at the man.

Blushing but not denying that such events had transpired, Murdoch opened his mouth, and closed it. He was truly rendered speechless for once.

"You of all people should know that an affair can never be truly hidden from anyone, Murdoch," Thomas reminded his detective.

Not that he thought for a second that his buttoned-up detective would ever be capable of such a thing-Thomas knew that Murdoch had not and would not ever even entertain the idea of being unfaithful to Dr. Ogden. The man simply was not programmed for such things.

But that didn't mean that he didn't enjoy winding the man up. Hell, it would have been criminal not take the opportunity provided him.

"Sir! I would never do such a thing. I…" Murdoch countered, before noticing his superior's smirk, and realized that the Inspector was having fun with him. "Funny, sir," he conceded.

Thomas beamed. There would have been a time when Murdoch wouldn't have recognized a joke, and it was just another way marriage had changed his staid detective, relaxed him even.

Still, the man had a job to do, even if it was a bit uncomfortable. If the husband turned out to be a suspect, this case might just require the Pinkertons.

"Find out what happened, and talk to the grieving widower. If you can't quickly remove him from suspicion, report back, and then maybe we'll have to call in someone else yet, Murdoch," Thomas conceded.

With a nod of his head, Murdoch was gone.

Pouring another dram into his tea, Thomas shook his head and laughed. Still remembering what Dr. Ogden's face had looked like that evening when Mrs. Middleton had all but indecently propositioned Murdoch at the gala, he wouldn't have been surprised if the good Doctor had killed the woman herself.

No, on second thought, if she were to kill someone, she would have arranged for someone else to do the job for her-she knew better than to allow it to be traced back to her in any way. Laughing at his flight of folly (and because he didn't want to return the Chief Inspector's call), he continued his line of thought, wondering how she might have done such a thing.

He surmised that she would have just made it look like one of the deaths of Murdoch's long list of erstwhile lovers. Just as he was chiding himself for such foolishness (particularly when he had more worthwhile things to do), his heart skipped a beat: had any of Murdoch's former flames survived to tell the tale? Was Dr. Ogden responsible in some way?

He couldn't help but begin making a mental list: Liza had died of typhoid, but what if it had been something else? What if Dr. Ogden had just arranged for that to be the manner of death? Thomas scolded himself –this ridiculous thinking would get him nowhere, and to think Dr. Ogden had committed conspiracy with another doctor was ludicrous. But his disobedient mind (once given a carrot) refused to heed his command.

Had anyone seen or verified Mrs. Jones' whereabouts recently? Sally Pendrick hadn't been a lover, but she'd certainly been a threat to Ogden, and neither hide nor hair of her had been glimpsed of the woman after the fiasco with the death ray. While Thomas wasn't worried that he had never heard from or of her again, he now wondered if Dr. Ogden was in some way responsible for that development. Anna Fulford hadn't actually died, but had the Doctor been the one to notify the Black Hand of her location? Had she left under threat from Dr. Ogden, who spared her life only because she had saved Murdoch's in Bristol? Was she safe and well wherever she was? Thomas hoped she was-he'd liked the woman and if circumstances were different, he would have liked have seen Murdoch settle down with her.

Undeterred, he continued. Dr. Bajjali-dead from a lightning strike…intriguing possibility, but despite her considerable intelligence, Thomas doubted that Dr. Ogden could have facilitated that demise. Right?

Now his mind was spinning. Eva Pearce was on the run for now, but what if she was dead? Given her tendency to get under the Murdoch's skin and into his subconscious, perhaps the Doctor had arranged for her to meet with her demise as well.

Now firmly distracted from his official tasks, his mind swam with the ridiculous notions that ran through his mind. Looking at his half-empty scotch bottle that was full yesterday, he put it away. Perhaps Margaret was right; maybe he was drinking too much. Standing up, he grabbed his hat and walking stick, announcing to the men in the bullpen that he was going out for a walk. He had to clear his mind of such foolery at once.

* * *

As it turned out, Mr. Middleton was quickly removed from suspicion, and Murdoch easily discovered that the true culprit had been one of Mrs. Middleton's discarded lovers- a jilted Casanova who couldn't accept that his lady had grown tired of him, and had instead sought out a new man to occupy her time.

Unfortunate, but Thomas was just happy that the Pinkertons hadn't been needed, and that his ridiculous, unwarranted theory about Dr. Ogden could be put to rest.

Or so he thought.

* * *

It was a month later, and Thomas found himself in attendance at another soiree given by the mayor, and once again, he had slunk off to his favorite corner where he enjoyed yet another purloined scotch to be savored away from the ever watchful, hawk-like eyes of his wife.

In a sense of dèja-vu, Thomas witnessed another scene not unlike the vignette that had played out with Mrs. Middleton. This time it seems that one of Dr. Ogden's classmates had taken quite a shine to Murdoch, who was, quite unsurprisingly, oblivious to the woman's less-than-honorable intentions. But, just as last time, Dr. Ogden was not, and was giving the woman the same ill-concealed look of anger and jealousy that she had given Mrs. Middleton previously.

Thomas hoped that she wouldn't soon turn up on a morgue slab.

Worried that he might see something that he would rather not, Thomas knocked back his drink and quickly went in search of his own wife, hoping to diffuse her own anger at his drinking with a quick spin around the dance floor.

Something, Thomas surmised, Murdoch would do very well to do to escape his own bit of trouble.


End file.
